Geoffrey found himself in the Prancing Pony Inn once again. He sat at a small table alone with a cup of wine (poor quality in comparison to the Dorwinion wine he had tasted in the Mayor’s office). The common-room of the inn was full on this evening. Men young and old spoke loudly of their labours, women gossiped together and hobbits giggled over stories of pies. Geoffrey didn’t care much for the crowded room; it was too noisy and drunkards kept knocking into his chair. But he was here with a purpose. He had heard whispers around the town, whispers concerning Kim Honeybark, who had held him captive two years ago and coerced him to take part in their robbery of the Bree-town Vault. Whilst he and the gentle giant Benny were able to put an end to this burglary, Kim had escaped, but not before putting a dagger into Benny. She was also the daughter of Orval Honeybark, a former companion who rode alongside Geoffrey’s father before betraying the company – forcing Geoffrey to kill him. Where she had been for the past two years, nobody knew. Officially the Watch were investigating it, but this meant nothing to Geoffrey. He knew that they would knock on the odd door around town with their enquiries before giving up the search. She was too cunning to remain in the village, and would be far away now. But Geoffrey had heard folk talking about her, so he took to the inn with the hope of overhearing more. What he had not anticipated was the noisiness on this busy evening. He could hear nothing at all relevant to Kim, only a young farmer complaining about the smell of cow dung.
But in among all this shoving and noisiness, a man sat opposite to Geoffrey. He recognised him at once, even though the lighting was very dim, save for a small candle. It was the elderly clerk from the Town Hall, where Geoffrey had exchanged some bitter words with the Mayor only two days before. The old man took some time to pull the chair out and even longer to sit. He looked gaunt in the candlelight, only his white sideburns illuminated him.
‘Good evening.’ Geoffrey politely said, with a slightly raised eyebrow. ‘You are Barnaby, are you not? The clerk at the Town Hall?’
‘Right on both accounts, Mr. Redstalk. I am Barnaby Stumpseed.’ he murmured in a frail little voice. ‘I have come here to tell you… Oh curse it. Give me a moment to gather my thoughts.’
Geoffrey waited patiently for the elder to “gather his thoughts”, which took minutes rather than a moment. Until finally he clicked his old, long fingers.
‘Ah yes, I remember now. I am here, Mr. Redstalk, with some information concerning one Kim Honeybark.’
Geoffrey now took an interest in the slow old man. He leant forward, so he might heard his voice more clearly. He even allowed the clerk to get away with mistaking his name.
‘Yes… The Watch’s investigation came to little consequence. But quite luckily, a postman was able to give more valuable assistance.’
‘A… postman?’ Geoffrey asked with a rather confused look about him.
‘Oh yes, a postman.’ answered Stumpseed with a touch of pride. ‘You see, when a letter is delivered to the village but the recipient cannot be identified, it is forwarded on to the Town Hall so it might be examined and given to its intended reader. A letter arrived by the South Gate only yesterday, and who it was intended for could not be established. So it came to me.’
From his old grey robe he presented a small, rolled up piece of parchment with a band around it. Stumpseed placed it on the table for Geoffrey to reach for. And so he did. Removing the band, he began to read the note. It was written in a scruffy hand, and some of the words were smudged. It read:
Me and my associates thank you for your assistance in acquiring the weapons.
We have made the appropriate preparation for you to join us.
Meet us at the Forsaken Inn within the fortnight. We will wait no longer.
K. Honeybark.
‘The Forsaken Inn? You’re telling me that Kim Honeybark is there?’ Geoffrey asked after reading the letter over three times.
‘I tell you nothing, Geoffrey Redstalk.’ The old man mumbled, taking the letter back and slipping it into his robe. ‘The letter tells you that.’
‘And this letter, it just happened to have no address upon and came to you?’ Geoffrey replied, quite suspicious of the clerk.
‘Quite right, yes.’ Barnaby nodded. ‘I would not come into a place like this only to lie to you.’
‘Very well.’ Geoffrey said before finishing the rest of his wine. ‘I ride for the Forsaken Inn with all haste. Alone.’
‘Then I can only wish you luck in your search, Redstalk. I hope that you find her and bring her to justice. Benny was my great-nephew, you know, and I only wish to see his killer brought down.’
‘I will see that justice is served. And I did not know that Benny was your kinsman. He was a good man, and was free of them in the end. Oh, and my name is Redstem.’
With that, Geoffrey departed from the inn and found his horse stabled nearby. It was late now, and he did not wish to wake his family. So he rode out from Bree without bidding them farewell. The Forsaken Inn lay to the east of Bree, and was the last piece of civilisation before the waste known as the Lone Lands. Geoffrey had been there numerous times before, and it was about as far east as he company stretched. They had no cause to ride out into the desert-like land. And to call the Forsaken Inn “civilised” would certainly be a lie. A derelict structure that barely passes for an inn, foul tasting drinks and unwelcoming folk. Most travellers avoid it and make the most of Bree.
At last he reached the Forsaken Inn, and it looked even more forsaken than the last time he was here some years previously. It was a building made from stone, with an old wooden roof which had partially collapsed. The sun was baking the land, and there was little shelter from the trees. To the east, Geoffrey could see nothing but an endless wasteland. A small shelter for horses stood nearby the inn, where Geoffrey reluctantly left his steed. Now he entered the inn through a thin, rotten door which almost came off from its rusted hinges. Along a dark passage he walked, with caution until he came to the common room of the inn. Odd tables were placed about with dirty mugs and plates left upon them. Miserable looking men and women scattered the room, and seemed not to notice Geoffrey’s arrival. At the Prancing Pony, newcomers are welcomed with much enthusiasm. But all was silent. At the far side of the inn was what looked like the bar, so Geoffrey headed there. Above the bar was where the roof had begun to fall through, which let the baking sun blaze into the dull inn. A man stood behind the bar, which consisted of a low and stained table which dirty mugs thrown over it. He was even more miserable than the patrons of the inn.
‘Excuse me.’ Geoffrey said politely. The man looked up at him with a terrible frown, as though he might stick a blade into Geoffrey there and then. ‘But I am looking for one called Kim Honeybark, who I believe is staying here. She is quite young with red—.’
But before he could finish, he felt someone grab him from behind. A knife was held to his throat, by a woman’s hand.
‘You’ve found her.’ A dull and sarcastic voice droned. It was Kim, who had evaded capture for two years. She turned him around to face her. The people in the inn looked as though they hadn’t even noticed what was happening. Kim looked as though she had aged a decade. Her hair was now darker and looked like wire; her face was pale and shallow. Her distinctive red cheeks had disappeared, sunken into her skull. The fugitive life clearly did not agree with her.
‘So you’ve found me. Well done.’ She droned mockingly. ‘Only, you needed my help to do it. Yeah, that’s right. I know how it works in Bree with letters – I sent that one without an address on it. I knew that some fool at the Town Hall would bring it straight to you. And here you are! Kill him.’
Two burly men with squinty eyes now approached Geoffrey as Kim backed away. One of them presented a curved knife and aimed it at Geoffrey’s face, only to find his arm in the hands of the smaller. Geoffrey twisted the arm around, breaking it, and then threw him down onto the table, breaking that also. Now he was able to unsheathe his blade to face the other crony. Although he looked intimidating, this fiend had little skill with a blade and soon found Geoffrey’s sword in his stomach. Kim backed away even more, with a look of horror on her face. Clearly she expected these men to defeat Geoffrey. No such luck for her. Turning now, she ran for the exit of the inn only to be pursued by Geoffrey.
‘Stop now!’ he cried. ‘Come back with me and face justice. A trial!’
She laughed a most insincere laugh. ‘I think not. They’ll name me guilty before the trial even starts.’
Now Kim ran towards the stable and quickly jumped on a skinny, cream coloured horse and rode swiftly to the east. Geoffrey gave chase on his own horse, his sword drawn. They rode far into the waste of the Lone Lands, along a winding road that had almost disappeared. For miles and miles their chase lasted, until only wasteland could be seen in all directions. But her horse eventually gave way, and cast her onto the sun-baked ground. It was a malnourished steed, and in this heat it simply could not cope. It was wheezing loudly, as though it was crying. As Kim pulled herself off from the ground, Geoffrey dismounted his own horse and went to the dying one. There was nothing to be done, it was old and had nothing left to give. Pulling a dagger out from his belt, he slit its throat swiftly, ending its suffering. Kim stood before Geoffrey, her foot was clearly in pain as she could not stand on it properly. His sword was drawn, yet she was unarmed.
The youthful and beautiful girl who Geoffrey had knew as Orval Honeybark’s daughter was gone. Now only a bitter woman stood in the unforgiving heat; her clothes tattered and her face looked like stone.
‘What now, Geoffrey?’ she asked in her ever-dull voice.
‘Now? Now I see that justice is done. Yet I will not dishonour the name of my family by slaying a woman. But neither will I offer you my steed. No, this is my justice: you will walk, in whatever direction you see fit. That is your punishment. If you live, then you live. If you die, then you die.’
And with that, he walked back over to his steed, who was panting heavily in the heat. From his pack he brought out a skin of water and gave it to his horse. Then he mounted his steed, tall above Kim.
‘This is not fair. All for a failed robbery!’ she cried.
‘That, yes. And the needless murder of Benny.’ He retorted, turning his horse around.
‘You condemn me to starve or die of exhaustion because I put a dagger throat that dim-witted oaf! You forget that he killed one of my men, Goodroot.’ she yelled, running at Geoffrey. He pointed the tip of his blade at her, warding her away.
‘His murder was as much a murder as any, whether you call it vengeance or not. You would have had me murdered in that inn, too. This is my mercy. You had better get walking.’
Without another word he rode off swiftly in the westwards direction, back towards Bree-land – his home. Kim was left in the wasteland, miles away from any settlement or civilisation. Nothing was ever heard of her again.
